Under the Java Moon, page 19
George closed his eyes as the men discussed some of the particulars of the camp, like bowing to the Japanese soldiers, attending roll call and saying their assigned number in Japanese, learning the Japanese national anthem, being allotted jobs such as street cleaning and kitchen duty, living in cramped and unsanitary conditions . . . it was all like a terrible dream.
George knew where he was. In Glodok. In a prison. But the rest didn’t seem real.
How could his wife be living like this too? How was she dealing with their young children and her aging mother? What about his sister, Tie? How was she faring?
Was Mary exhausted like he was? The conversation of the men buzzed around him, indistinct, as he allowed his mind to wander, mostly focused on Mary. He’d known after their first date that she was the type of woman he wanted to marry. But he’d also known he needed to be patient. She needed time to warm up to the idea, to get to know him.
Mary’s mother was a hardworking, devoted woman, with talents and generosity that impressed him. It was clear that Mary was much like her mother, despite any influence the character of her father had provided.
Whenever George had free time, he’d offered to help fix anything in the yard or house. Mrs. Van Benten had no trouble putting him to work and always showed her gratitude through cooking him something delicious. He got used to the lifestyle quickly, but as the date of his examination neared, he knew he’d have to say goodbye. He’d be heading to the Netherlands East Indies as a member of the KPM crew. Away from Mary. Away from the woman he’d fallen in love with.
The night before his examination he asked Mary to dinner, but he didn’t want to talk in a crowded café surrounded by other people. So they walked to an out-of-the-way place, and George purchased a meal they could take with them for a sort of picnic. When they found a bench along the waterfront, the nerves hit George full force. He planned to tell Mary what his feelings were, but he had no idea if she’d reciprocate them. And what if this whole evening turned out to be a permanent goodbye?
They ate together, chatting about Mary’s day and George’s studying for the examination. Then Mary looked over at him and directly asked, “What are your plans after the exam? Will you set sail soon?”
This was the opening that George needed to take. He cleared his throat and said, “I leave in three days for the Netherlands East Indies.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Only three days?”
George had told Mrs. Van Benten that morning but had asked her to let him tell Mary himself.
“Yes, three days,” he said, his pulse zipping along. “That’s why I need to tell you something important. Something that can’t wait any longer.”
Mary’s gaze fell to her hands in her lap, and George reached out and placed a hand on top of hers.
“I don’t know if this timing is very good or very bad, but I’m hoping you’ll agree to marry me.” Nerves thrummed through him. “I love you, Mary, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
She lifted her eyes then, and he knew that this moment, the truth would be shown to him.
Her eyes glimmered with tears, but she was smiling.
“I don’t have a home yet, or anything to my name,” he said, “but I hope we can build all of that together—”
She cut him off with a kiss.
And George welcomed it with his whole heart.
A clatter made George flinch out of his daydreaming. Someone was knocking on a door. A prison door. At Glodok. George opened his eyes to see two Japanese soldiers enter. They motioned for the Dutch seamen to come with them.
Anywhere but here sounded good to George. They were led into another part of the building and made to stand before a table. Other soldiers lined the walls, their weapons pointed at the prisoners. When another Japanese man entered, it was obvious that he was a high-ranking official due to the medals on his khaki officer’s uniform.
Another man, a Dutch civilian, entered as well, and stood a few feet from the commander. It turned out that he’d be the interpreter. Adjusting his glasses, he began, “Identify yourselves and state how you came to be in the village where you were picked up.”
What would their own commanding officer, Captain Rouwenhorst, reveal to their enemy? George wondered.
When Rouwenhorst spoke to the interpreter, he said nothing about their mission to Australia. He only mentioned that their minesweeper had been torpedoed, and they were trying to find a safe place to land.
“You were not evading the Japanese army?” the interpreter questioned.
“It is true that we didn’t want to be put into prison,” Rouwenhorst said.
That was at least the partial truth, and George would have to remember Rouwenhorst’s answers if he were ever to be questioned alone.
The commander seemed to accept Rouwenhorst’s replies, though, because the man stood and walked among the Dutch seamen, looking each man up and down. He pointed at a few of the men, including George, and said something in Japanese.
The interpreter translated, “You men are going to the hospital.”
George could have collapsed in relief. A hospital could treat his foot and the festering wounds of his comrades.
There wasn’t time to say goodbye or wonder about their comrades’ fate before George, Mulder, and a couple of others were led out of the building. Once again, George was struck with the atmosphere of the camp. He felt dozens of pairs of eyes upon him from the Dutch men and boys, but no one spoke to them.
He searched the eyes that connected with his, looking for answers, for information, but all he saw were more questions. He didn’t recognize anyone from Laan Trivelli.
The “hospital” turned out to be a house converted into a medical center. George could see right away that it wasn’t fully functional, but the doctors were Dutch so it was a relief to be able to speak to them. Still, George was careful about what he told them about the sea voyage. He also didn’t mention that their destination had been Australia.
Once his foot was drained and disinfected, he was given a round of antibiotics. The doctor told him that it was way too late to stitch up the gash on his toe, so he’d have to live with the split, heart-shaped scar. That was the last thing that George was worried about.
“Can you tell me about the women’s camps?” George asked the doctor. “Are they being taken care of?”
The doctor studied George for a moment. “Do you have family there?”
“My wife and two children,” George said. “At least I think so. I was at sea when the camps were formed. My mother-in-law should also be with them. I don’t know what’s happened to my sister either.” He lowered his voice. “My wife is pregnant. About five months along.”
“I see,” the doctor said. “There is more than one women’s camp in Batavia and throughout Java. The one closest to us is called Tjideng. Sometimes we can see women from the camp traveling outside the gates. Groups of them visit the Indonesian markets.”
With George’s foot treated, and the possibility of seeing Mary, new hope had flooded back.
“Is there a list of names? A way to find out where my wife was taken?”
The doctor hesitated, then after a quick glance about the hospital room, he said, “The Japanese army takes excellent records. It might be possible to discover where your wife is interned.”
Chapter Nineteen
“My 12-year-old niece came down with jaundice and there was neither medicine nor a doctor in the camp. My mother, who cared for Maud, was advised by a fellow prisoner to feed her three head lice in the morning with pisang mas, a certain variety of banana. She tried the remedy, and the result was unbelievable: Maud was cured within one week.”
—Mathilde Ponder-Van Kempen, Gebog Camp
Mary
“Tenko!” the Japanese commander called out.
“Ichi,” Tie said, starting off the count for their row.
Mary spoke next, and said, “ni”—number two. Then Ita said, “san,” and Georgie, “shi.”
When their group had counted off, and the Japanese soldiers approved their roll call, the commander strode among the rows.
The Dutch women and children were still bent at the waist, still holding their bowed poses, until otherwise told. Mary kept her arms stiffly at her sides, even though perspiration trickled down her neck, making her itch. If someone didn’t bow low enough, then roll call would start over, which only meant more hours beneath the hot sun. Something she didn’t want Oma or her children to experience.
Over the past couple of months, punishments had been doled out at roll call if someone failed to bow deeply enough or if someone missed their number or if someone was found absent and the house residents didn’t report it. And for so many other reasons. Interestingly enough, Mary had noticed that some of the Japanese soldiers worked to be very kind to the children in camp. This was especially true of a man named Kano, who oversaw their sector. But most soldiers regarded the adult Dutch women with disdain.
Mary and her friends at camp had discussed this more than once, and they agreed that European women were offensive to the Japanese men, in both manner and dress. And, of course, personality.
The more outspoken women had to use restraint to remain as docile as possible. Otherwise, consequences could be brutal. Women had been lectured and beaten and imprisoned—their hair shorn to shame them for disobedience.
Two rows over, one woman wore a scarf about her head. Her hair had been shorn off the week before, and Claudia had cut off a lock of her own hair so that the woman could tuck a false set of bangs into the scarf. If someone didn’t know what had happened to her, they might think she still had a full head of hair.
Another bead of perspiration escaped Mary’s hairline and ran along her nose, making her glasses loose on the bridge of her nose. She listened to the murmur of the Japanese soldiers as they talked about the numbers in roll call. Why it took so long, Mary didn’t know. The count was always the same, morning and night.
A sigh escaped Oma behind Mary, and she tilted her head a bit to see her mother. “Are you all right?” she whispered as quietly as possible.
“I’m dizzy,” Oma whispered back.
“Can you lean on me, Ma?” Mary asked.
Oma shuffled a step forward and placed a hand on the small of Mary’s back. If the soldiers noticed, what would be their punishment?
Mary was worried, yes, but she also knew they were lucky in this quadrant. The Dutch-speaking commander was easier to communicate with, and the soldiers who worked beneath him were strict, but not cruel.
There was cruelty in other parts of the camp. Mary’s stomach twisted to think of it. It seemed Tie was doing a stellar job of being their house leader. The Japanese commander listened to her. One example was Johan’s dog. The dog seemed to know he’d been granted a reprieve and had upped his fetching skills, catching many rats.
Mary’s stomach churned again. She’d heard stories of women cooking rats over unofficial fires behind their houses. Mary hoped things wouldn’t come to that, but the food supply seemed to be more scant each week. There hadn’t been any seaweed brought in on the latest trucks, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a piece of fruit.
“You may stand!” the commander called in Dutch. “New announcement.”
With Oma standing upright, Mary hoped her mother felt better. Less dizzy.
The crunch of the commander’s boots on the road echoed with his words. “Today you will all move houses. We have more people arriving at our camp and room needs to be made.”
Mary didn’t want to move houses, but maybe they’d have a bigger room? Or maybe the toilet in the new house would be working? That would make it worth it. They’d had to dig a trench for sanitation and assign work groups to clean it out each day by carrying buckets to the ditch that ran under the front gates. The mess and stench were awful. So many of them had been sick with fever, vomiting, and bloody diarrhea from dysentery. Once diagnosed, the person had to quarantine in the medical building since it was highly contagious.
Mary glanced to her side, and her gaze met Claudia’s very briefly. The woman gave her a small nod. Mary knew they were thinking the same thing and both hoping that their families would be moved to the same house.
“You will take your personal belongings and suitcases,” the commander continued to boom. “No furniture. That will all stay in the original house.”
Mary mentally itemized their belongings. After so many things had been confiscated, she’d had little to trade at the outside markets. Once a week, the Japanese military allowed women to go to the Indonesian markets. Mary rode her bike and traded what she could, but everything was getting scarcer or more expensive. She might have to eventually trade in her bike.
Once, while on the way to the market, Claudia had suggested they make a run for it. Leave the camp and everything behind. But both women knew it wasn’t an option. There was nowhere to go. Their own homes were occupied by either Japanese or Indonesians now. And where else could they take care of their children? Live in the jungled mountains and hunt for their food?
Mary was half-way through her pregnancy but she already felt like she was closer to the end. Her energy was depleted from the lack of food and decent rest. She was still hoarding an emergency supply of food—mostly in the jury-rigged false bottom of the baby pram, of all places—to be used if times grew more desperate. The peanut plants she’d planted had yet to produce.
What would it be like when she had an extra mouth to feed? The days were filled with rotating through jobs at the kitchens, visiting the medical center, knitting socks for the guards or repairing uniforms, cleaning up . . . with little to eat and much to worry about. And the nights were filled with listening to everyone else’s families—the crying, the complaining, the sicknesses.
Not to mention the bed bugs. And the lice.
Half the house had lice, and Mary knew it was only a matter of time before it reached her family. Perhaps she should look forward to the move. When they were excused from roll call, the women’s conversations buzzed about them, as everyone speculated where they’d have to move to.
It seemed Tie had already been given the answer, and when they reached the house, she called a meeting on the veranda. “We’re moving three houses that way,” she said, pointing. “We will still be in the same sector.”
This was good news, Mary decided. They’d have the same Dutch-speaking commander.
“Where are the people in that house going?” Claudia asked, from someplace in the back of the group.
“Nowhere,” Tie said, a deep line making a path between her brows. “They are making room for us. Like the commander said, bring your most personal belongings. There won’t be room for more.” She gave a half smile that wasn’t much of a smile at all. “First to arrive will be the first to choose a place.”
If that didn’t get everyone in action, nothing else would.
Mary knew she was saying goodbye to a private room.
She rushed in with the others, gripping Georgie by the hand. Ita was with Oma. And when they reached their room, Oma said, “I will help with the children’s things. You work on our suitcases.”
Mary did so, and as she was adding a few more tins of food to the small stash in the baby pram, Tie came into the room. One more second and she wouldn’t have seen the food.
“Hand that over,” Tie said, stretching out her hand. “You know the rules. If you’re caught by someone else, then you’ll pay the consequences.”
“They’re for the children,” Mary said in a low voice. She didn’t want to attract the attention of any of the other house residents. “Your own niece and nephew. We’ve had them all this time, in case of an emergency.”
Tie’s jaw clamped tight, and her dark brown gaze remained steady.
“Hand them over,” Oma murmured. “God will provide.”
Mary wanted to argue with her mother. So far, they had eaten regularly, although everyone had lost weight. But Tie was literally taking food from children, and Mary knew she wouldn’t be turning it in—but stashing it for her own use.
Mary handed over the tins. Anger kindled in her stomach, churning like a boiling pot. She was too angry to speak, so she returned to her packing, as tears burned hot in her eyes.
“Mama?” Georgie moved off the bed where he’d been watching everyone pack and looped his arm through hers. “I’m not hungry.”
That dear boy . . . Mary blinked back the tears, letting the fury inside of her cool, and kissed the top of her boy’s head. “All will be well, Georgie. We’re together, and that’s what matters.” She found Ita watching her too. These children were so vulnerable, and they depended so much on her. She would protect them at all costs, even from their own aunt, if needed.
“Everyone ready?” Mary asked in a bright voice. “We’ll take the cot and see if we’re allowed to keep it.”
By the time they reached the yard outside, most of the other women were packed up and heading to their new location. Children tagged along, carrying belongings. Mary saw Claudia and her children, and they fell into step together. Ahead of them, someone had procured a flatbed trailer on wheels, and it was loaded with belongings.
“You can add your things here, if you want,” one of the women called out, motioning to Mary and Claudia.
“Oh, thank you.” Mary loaded the cot and the suitcases onto the flatbed with the help of Ita. “Now, help push, children. We’ll come back for the baby pram.”
“I’ll push the bike,” Oma offered.
Everyone shuffled around, and soon Mary was pushing the flatbed, with Georgie taking position on the side. Claudia, Johan, and Willy joined in. Kells trotted alongside of them, happy to be on an adventure. Mary hoped the family could keep their dog for a good long time.
